


this garden once was perfect

by leveilleurs



Category: Original Work
Genre: Coming Untouched, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, Succubi & Incubi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-01-22 21:52:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18536188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leveilleurs/pseuds/leveilleurs
Summary: When he’d gotten the tell-tale ringing in his ears that signified one of his demon-traps had been sprung just as he was about to turn in for the night, Father Lowell had really hoped it was just some easily-banished minor imp or somesuch.





	this garden once was perfect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peternurphy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peternurphy/gifts).



When he’d gotten the tell-tale ringing in his ears that signified one of his demon-traps had been sprung just as he was about to turn in for the night, Father Lowell had really hoped it was just some easily-banished minor imp or somesuch. Or a deer, because the amount of times they’d managed to set off the demon-traps was really quite uncanny, and probably worthy of research from someone with more time on their hands than Lowell.

Of course, he was never that lucky. Not when it came to ever managing to get a good night’s sleep without something interrupting him, at least.

“Let us not become weary in doing good,” he muttered to himself as he eyed the thing in the trap, and then snorted quietly. No chance of succeeding at that _physically_ if he was correct about what he’d caught. It was trying its best to shift forms now that it had seen him, but there was a distinct lack of glowing eyes or sulphur or serpents and a contrasting amount of bared skin and flowing tattoos in the flickering after-images that the demon-trap prevented it from actually physically committing to.

“Stop that,” Lowell ordered it sharply. “You'll only give the both of us a headache.”

It did stop, which he supposed was a point in the demon’s favor. Now that it was still, Lowell was able to get a proper look at it; it was smaller than it had been trying to pretend to be, by the looks of things, and more pretty than actually seductive, with wide red eyes framed by ridiculous lashes and perfect-looking sandy brown skin. Small, purple horns jutted from its forehead, matching the color of the bat-like wings and thin, arrow-tipped tail twitching behind it. The actual outfit it was wearing left a lot more to the imagination than what it had been trying to shift to, but there was still enough of a bulge in its pants for him to settle on incubus rather than succubus - in as much as the distinction was actually clear and truthful, anyway, which Lowell wasn’t actually sure was much.

It kept staring up at him, looking torn between wariness and hunger, until Lowell sighed and folded his arms.

“What are you doing in my parish, boy?” he asked, immediately trying to ignore the way the incubus twitched and flushed at the ‘boy’. If the thing was hungry, presumably pretty much anything would affect it that way. It didn't mean that _he_ had to be affected at all.

“Hunting,” it answered promptly, and then proceeded to flutter its eyelashes. Or try to, anyway, with the air of someone who’d heard that that was attractive but never actually attempted to pull it off before. Lord deliver him, had the thing ever even hunted before?

Well. That would be someone else’s problem. Concubi weren't inherently dangerous for the most part; unless they were truly starved or focused on the same prey constantly for long periods, the negative effects on their victims were no worse than a restless night’s sleep and some occasional chafing, and all the literature pointed toward them preferring willing prey. Lowell could just make it clear his parish was off-limits, banish the thing back to where it came from, and let it try again somewhere else.

Except that when he tried to tell it that, it panicked, wings flaring behind it and tail lashing like an aggravated cat.

“You can't do that!” it insisted. “Or— I mean, you probably could, but _please_ don't. If I fail this then I’ll be banished from my family and marked, and then other demons will chase me out of anywhere they see me trying to hunt, and— please?”

The problem was that the demon-trap prevented trapped demons from lying. His life would be so much simpler if it didn’t, considering that concubi were one of the species that _could_ tell direct lies. But not in the demon-trap, which meant that the incubus was telling the truth, which meant that Lowell could hardly call himself a loving servant of the Lord if he banished the thing and caused it to be disowned, marked and chased away from hunting until it either starved or came close enough to become actually dangerous. The demons were His creations just as much as any other creature, and Lowell had always found it in his duties to try to do by right by them as well, so long as doing right by them didn’t mean enabling harm to others.

However, he’d also - when he was younger, and stupider, and convinced that if demons existed they were nothing but a scourge upon the earth - made an oath to protect his parishioners from all demons, no matter what. As short-sighted as he’d realized in time that it was, the Lord had yet to deliver him some sign that he was free of it, and Lowell had resolved to continue abiding by it until that happened. If it was inconvenient, that was his penance for his youthful pride.

Which was all well and good, but it also meant that he couldn’t send the incubus back unfed and also couldn’t let it feed on anyone in his parish.

Except himself, of course. Lowell rather suspected someone on high was laughing at him right now.

Sighing, he retrieved a thin chain from his pocket; it had a circle of metal at the end that he threaded the chain through before tossing that looped section of the chain into the demon-trap circle, keeping ahold of the rest of the length of it.

“Put that around your neck,” he told the incubus, and it stared at him for a few moments and then nodded quickly and did as it was told. Once it had done so, Lowell disarmed the demon-trap and tugged on the chain, forcing the demon to follow him as he headed back toward the church.

“What are you doing?” it asked when they came in sight of the church.

“You need to be fed, and my parishioners are off-limits. I’m taking you to the rectory.”

There was a moment of silence, presumably while the incubus tried to follow the logic, and then a quiet, delighted-sounding _oh!_ from behind him. Lowell just sighed and glanced heavenwards. No help came from that direction, though, and soon they reached the rectory and Lowell led the demon inside, not looking back at it until he was sat down on the couch with it stood opposite him.

And now he had an incubus in his living room. Wonderful.

Well. Since he was going to be feeding the thing, he might as well: “Do you have a name, boy?”

It twitched again at the address, but offered, “Uh. Yeah. Arista. I’m Arista.”

The name sounded familiar, but it took Lowell a few moments to actually make the connection, and another few moments to start laughing.

“Really? The brightest star in _Virgo_?”

Arista flushed and looked away. “My parents are called Spica and Virgilius, they’re just… like that.”

Well, it wasn’t as though Lowell couldn’t appreciate some irony. Or as though it presently _was_ particularly ironic in Arista’s case, as far as he could tell. Shaking his head, he leaned back in his seat and went on, “Anyway. Is the literature correct in stating that you’re fed by any sexual activity, regardless of whether your victims achieve orgasm?”

Arista flushed even darker, and it - he, Lowell supposed, if he was going to be feeding the thing and calling it by name then he might as well think of it as a he - squirmed in front of him, mouth open for a moment with no sound emerging before he closed it and nodded.

“You’ll note,” Lowell felt the need to point out there, “That the chain will prevent you from lying just as effectively as the trap.”

“It’s just— it’d be like skipping your favorite dessert?”

“Noted. But the point is just to give you a meal, not a luxurious one, so forgive me if your favorite dessert isn’t on the menu in the first place.”

Arista was pouting now, but he nodded. Lowell gestured him forward, and he stepped forward and then more flowed into Lowell’s lap than anything, straddling his hips and squirming above him. He jerked sharply when Lowell tugged at the base of his tail, eyes going wide.

“Off,” Lowell ordered. “On your hands and knees over my lap, not like that. Clothes off - you can do that without moving, can’t you? And then hold the position.”

The incubus changed positions almost immediately and shifted to remove his clothes when Lowell let go of his tail, and now he had a warm, naked demon kneeling over his lap and whimpering occasionally with the effort of trying to stay still. Well. Even if he had no intention of actually getting himself off, he couldn’t deny that he was affected by it. He reached down to unzip his pants, just to make things a little less… constrained, and Arista immediately let out a soft, whining moan.

“I didn’t even touch you,” Lowell pointed out.

“Yeah, but— but it’s right there, and. And I want to suck you off?”

Lowell didn’t really think about what he was doing, just brought his hand down sharply against Arista’s ass. It was apparently welcome enough, from the noise Arista made, and Lowell was rather glad he’d unzipped _before_ causing that noise. This was a night for testing all kinds of vows, evidently.

“You don’t need to touch me to be fed, do you?” he asked, once he’d given Arista a moment to calm down. When the incubus shook his head, Lowell went on, “So you won’t. I’ll touch you, and you’ll behave.”

“But— but consider,” Arista said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Consider?”

“Your cock is _right there_ , and I _want it_.”

Lowell slapped his ass again in the same spot but harder, and Arista rocked forward, practically sobbing.

“I can’t tell if you actually want that, or if you’re just trying to be a brat so that I’ll keep spanking you.” He brought his hand down again before Arista could answer, and then several more times whenever Arista seemed to be getting himself together enough to speak. Eventually he let up, and leaned back a little to watch him.

“It— both?” Arista managed finally. “Definitely both.”

Lowell hummed acknowledgement, running his fingers over the heated skin of Arista’s ass where he’d been spanking and watching as he arched his back to push into the touch. Even untouched, Arista’s cock was dripping, and Lowell raised an eyebrow.

“I wonder if you could come from that alone. Would that feed you well enough?”

Arista sobbed, but nodded sharply. “But I want— wanna be touched.”

“I know, I know,” Lowell told him, voice pitched low and soothing before he brought his hand down again with a sharp crack that made Arista jerk forward and yelp. “Still. Better a little with righteousness than much gain with injustice.”

Arista twisted his his head around to stare up at him.

“Are. Are you quoting scripture while you get me off?”

He sounded so offended that Lowell couldn’t help but laugh, even as he was running his hand down Arista’s ass to pinch at his thighs and make him jerk and squirm.

“I suppose it _is_ rather poorly-timed, isn’t it? But I stand by it, anyway.”

Arista just made a quiet grumbling noise and lifted his ass demandingly, and Lowell took the invitation to bring his hand down sharply again. He kept at it, Arista getting louder and louder as the smacks went on and trembling with the effort of staying upright over Lowell’s lap, until suddenly the incubus was grabbing at his thigh and coming across his lap with a high, sobbing whine.

Well. Lowell’s plan to get these pants dry-cleaned later wasn’t going to take care of the claw-marks ripped into the fabric of them, but he supposed he couldn’t _entirely_ blame Arista for it. Nudging the incubus out of his lap, he examined the cuts left on his thigh - thin and shallow, more like cat-scratches than anything else and easy enough to deal with once Arista was gone - and then turned his head to look down at where Arista had pressed into his side and was staring up at him, eyes wide and worried-loooking.

“I— Sorry. About your leg.”

Lowell waved him off. “The dangers of being a member of the clergy, apparently. Are you fed?”

Arista nodded, and Lowell reached up to pat his head until he stopped looking so worried, and then lifted the chain from around his neck.

“Good. Then you can leave once you feel up to it, and then feed elsewhere in future. My parishioners are still off limits.”

Nodding again, Arista pulled himself upright and shifted to be clothed again. Once that was done and he was just standing in front of Lowell, he stared at him in silence for a moment and then asked, “…but can I feed from _you_ again in future?”

Lowell really wasn’t quite sure whether the swat he delivered to Arista’s ass before the incubus disappeared in a puff of sweet-smelling smoke actually counted as a refusal or as encouragement, but, well. He supposed he’d find out if Arista turned up at the rectory again.


End file.
